


Cheek to Cheek

by somethingsalwayswrong



Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: Billie Holiday, Dancing, Drinking, F/F, Slow Dancing, basically just silly drunk women in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-04
Updated: 2015-03-04
Packaged: 2018-03-16 07:16:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3479213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somethingsalwayswrong/pseuds/somethingsalwayswrong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Peggy's got her heels kicked off and her feet on a coffee table. Angie unbuttoned the top button on her blouse, her skin sweating from the whiskey they're still drinking. (Not that Angie can remember if this is the first bottle they cracked open or not.)"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cheek to Cheek

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Marzipanmadness](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marzipanmadness/gifts).



> There's a corresponding playlist that has all the songs mentioned! Here, my delightful children. ([x](http://open.spotify.com/user/12753926/playlist/1CgixcbgNxnYjx2UFexDwx) )
> 
> Also I dedicate this fic to Marzipanmadness, who never failed to scream obsceneties at me while she watched Agent Carter.

Honestly, Angie is blaming it on Peggy.

They are drunk. Peggy and Angie are falling all over each other, cackling with laughter, drunk as a skunk, in the living room of Stark's swanky mansion. They've got a whole room to themselves but instead they're pressed up on a couch together. Peggy's got her heels kicked off and her feet on a coffee table. Angie unbuttoned the top button on her blouse, her skin sweating from the whiskey they're still drinking. (Not that Angie can remember if this is the first bottle they cracked open or not.)

Peggy's been telling some story about one of the guys she knew back in the war, some schmuck who got himself caught trying to smuggle a live chicken with him into camp and both of them are wheezing with laughter, Angie doubled over trying to catch her breath. She looks over at Peggy as she curls a hand into her side, trying to get rid of the stitch that's just worked it's way there. Peggy's head is lolled back in relaxation, those perfectly painted red lips just a little smudged from drinking directly from the bottle. Her face is flushed from the drink and the laughter. Angie's tongue darts out to wet her lips and she tries to tell herself it's dry mouth from drinking so much.

Suddenly Angie sees a Victrola in the corner of the room and decides they need music that very second. She hops up (ignoring the way her brain seems to slosh around in her head) and stumbles over to the machine. 

“Oh, are you putting on music? That's a lovely idea!” Peggy slurs from across the room. Angie grins as she flicks through a shelf of records next to the Victrola, trying to pick one out that she recognizes. Peggy's normally so composed, every word perfectly thought out and pronounced. Hearing her a little relaxed, a little silly and slurred, makes Angie's entire face light up. She wants to take the entire moment and wrap it up tightly, keep it for herself where nobody else can see it.

She finally finds a familiar name and puts Billie Holiday on to play. “Cheek to Cheek” starts to spill out of the horn as she trips her way back to the sofa, where Peggy's still sitting. Her stocking-clad feet are still on the coffee table and she's grinning at Angie. Angie grins back, her throat going dry as she notices that Peggy's skirt has ridden up a tiny bit, showing just the tiniest hint of lace at the top of her stockings. Angie flops her body unceremoniously onto the sofa by Peggy, maybe just a smidgen closer than they were sitting before. 

Peggy's got an arm flopped around the back of the couch and she looks over at Angie, still smiling wildly. 

“Miss Day, wonderful choice.” 

Angie gives her a smile back, every inch of her warm and joyous. “She's great, huh?” she manages to say. 

They sit there for a while, letting Billie's smooth deep voice wash over them. Angie thinks she might be starting to nod off, the liquor and the music and the lateness of the evening all combining in the perfect way. 

But then Peggy's standing up and Angie snaps awake from the sudden movement. “Where's the fire, English?” she squawks out. 

“Come dance with me, Yankee,” Peggy says with a conspiratorial look in her eyes. She grabs Angie's wrist and pulls her to her feet. “I haven't had a proper dance since before the war.”

The song is a fast one, “Swing! Brother, Swing!” and Angie knows they're both too drunk to really get this right but the thought of holding Peggy that close has her stumbling to her feet as fast as she can anyway. 

Peggy doesn't seem to know how to lead but that's fine because the girls in Angie's old neighborhood didn't have anything to do but practice dancing with each other. But that was silly girls dancing in their mother's kitchens, learning new dance moves their fathers would call lurido. This was two grown women. She hoped it wasn't too different.

Angie grabs her hand and tries not to look too eager as she curls an arm around Peggy's waist. And then they're moving to the rhythm of the song. Or well, attempting to. Their feet keep getting tangled and their reactions are just a tad too sluggish for it to really work well. But god if Angie isn't enjoying every second of it. 

Peggy giggles. “You're rubbish!” she says, a little too loud and high, but she's grinning from ear to ear. Angie allows herself a moment to think about how she'd like to taste that wide painted smile of her's.

“You're not exactly Fred Astaire yourself, you know,” she says instead and grins back. The song ends and honestly Angie's relieved because her heart is racing even from that small amount of dancing and her feet are stinging from where Peggy's managed to trample them.

The next song kicks on and this one's slower, quieter. “All of Me” starts playing. Peggy hasn't moved from Angie's grasp and so she decides this is an indication that Peggy's sudden jitterbug hasn't left yet. She starts leading her in a gentle rocking back and forth, not quite dancing. Mostly just moving to the steady rhythm of the song. Peggy leans into it and by extension, her. Angie's heart is still racing.

As they rock slowly in the center of the room, Angie lets her eyes slip closed and enjoy the sensation of Peggy pressed against her. And suddenly Peggy's got her head resting on Angie's shoulder and Angie feels her chest loosen up. She hadn't even realized how tight it had felt til that moment.

Take my lips  
I want to lose them  
Take my arms  
I'll never use them

Your goodbye  
Left me with eyes that cry  
How can I go on dear without you  
Angie sings under her breath with the song, not sure if it's because the song is gorgeous or because the lyrics are making her think about things she shouldn't. (She allows herself to think about them anyway, and blames it on the whiskey that still makes her veins feel like they're on fire.)  
She feels Peggy tilt her head up just a tiny bit and her face is pressed into the crook of Angie's neck. Those distracting lips are mouthing something Angie can't quite catch. A quiet shiver runs down her spine at the feeling. Peggy's moved her hands so they're looped around Angie's waist and they're pressed flush together. “Fine and Mellow” comes on as the last song ends.

Angie brushes her cheek against Peggy's and somehow they're still swaying to the music, not that Angie's even thinking about it anymore. Not with the way Peggy's breath is tickling her neck and they're so close. Even this close, even with Peggy clearly reciprocating, Angie wonders if she's misreading the signs. She questions the odds, that a girl like Peggy would be violet. But then Peggy's pressing tiny open-mouthed kisses to the side of Angie's neck and all of her questions fly out the window.  
She turns her head just a bit, just enough to catch the corner of Peggy's mouth with a tiny kiss. Peggy turns to meet her and suddenly they're really kissing, slow and warm and sluggish. The fire that had been burning steadily in her blood suddenly flares up and she's pretty darn sure this is the best thing she's ever felt. She moves her hand up to tangle in Peggy's dark curls. She can't even count the times she's thought about that, wanted to take apart this carefully put together disguise Peggy's always got on. See what's underneath.  
Peggy huffs out a soft laugh against Angie's lips. “C'mon, I ain't that bad, am I?” she whispers, opening her eyes and smiling as she says it.  
“No, no. You're splendid. It's just...we're in Howard Stark's love nest.” Peggy smiles and damn if that smile isn't the most intoxicating thing Angie's indulged in this night. 

Angie pecks her on the lips. “Seems like the perfect place to me,” she mutters.

Peggy's eyes sparkle briefly and she replies, “Yes, seems rather perfect to me as well,” right before she pulls Angie in for another kiss.


End file.
